In Defense of Parody: Reflections On the “Last Supper” Scene at the Opening of the Olympic Games
Alexandra de Moffarts
Jan Steen, Marriage in Cana, 1668. National Gallery of Ireland.
In the weeks following the opening ceremony of the Olympic Games, we witnessed an outpouring of criticism, indignation, sorrow, and even hatred directed at the scene, which was intended, according to many observers, to parody the Last Supper, or rather, Da Vinci's famous painting of it. Episcopal conferences from around the world expressed their views on the matter. There were endless debates (ranging from polite to aggressive) regarding whether this scene represented the Last Supper or rather the banquet of the Olympian gods around Dionysus.
According to some of the producers, who presented their apologies, there was indeed an intended allusion to the Last Supper painting, aimed at conveying a message of inclusion and acceptance for all. However, it was not meant to offend Christians or their image of Christ. The question of whether Christ was represented by the protagonist painted in blue or by the woman sitting in the middle of the table was also fiercely debated. Another element that caused significant scandal was the fact that almost all the people seated at the table were drag queens.
I must confess that I was both surprised and saddened by the extent to which these polemics, even in their most polite forms, have escalated. The question of whether the allusion to the Eucharist was intentional or not seems secondary to me. What truly warrants deeper reflection are the reactions that this perception has provoked.
Why have we developed expectations, or even demands, that the culture around us should show respect for Christians and refrain from making allusions that might offend them? Such expectations bring us closer to the current political climate of Putin’s Russia, which has officially banned "blasphemy" and any actions that could offend Orthodox Christians. Would we not, instead, resemble certain media and cultural circles in the USA, where political correctness dictates the avoidance of certain topics to prevent being "cancelled"? Do we wish to promote this type of society, which edges toward a form of cultural autocracy? Would this status of power be in line with the spirit of the Gospel (cf. Mk. 10:42-44), and would it be appropriate for the Church?
Furthermore, if Christianity can still be the subject of jokes and satirical or parodic references, it indicates that it remains a cultural touchstone. If people are talking about us, it means the Gospel message is still relevant, and dialogue is still possible.
It seems to me that many Christians have forgotten that Christ freely accepted humiliation and contempt, and he proclaimed that his disciples (who were "not greater than their Master") would experience the same (Jn. 15:17ff). Ironically, it was precisely this Gospel passage that was proposed by the Orthodox lectionary on the very day these debates began! Furthermore, was Christ himself not also the subject of parody? During his trial, soldiers dressed him in royal robes to mock him. Yet, this parody of a coronation expressed a profound truth, for Christ truly was a King.
Orthodox Christians seem to struggle with accepting that they are not always taken seriously. When ridiculed or parodied, they take offense. However, history has witnessed periods of genuine persecution, and when we read the lives of the holy martyrs, we feel pride in their legacy. Did Christ not say, "Blessed are you when people insult you because of me" (Mt. 5:11)?
Moreover, there are still regions in the world where Christians are actually persecuted and denied even the right to exist. In our pious circles, we rarely hear about these realities, as they are overshadowed by protests about offenses. And we only seem to emphasize these (real or supposed) persecutions when they align ideologically or politically with our own views.
In contrast, parody can have very positive effects on spiritual growth. First, it is always healthy not to take ourselves too seriously. Learning not to react to provocations, to see the absurd and comic side of situations, and to reflect on exaggerated criticism can be seen as a form of asceticism. This practice could free us from ideological imprisonment and a kind of sour arrogance of the Pharisee from the Gospel parable.
Furthermore, parody could lead to a reversal or even a metanoia (spiritual transformation) in some who engage in it. Through the depths of mockery, one might rebound toward something entirely different. The Church's tradition offers examples of mockery leading to transformation. For instance, the lives of the saints recount examples of "holy mimes" from the Roman Empire during the first three centuries of Christianity. Saints like Porphyry and Gene converted while parodying the sacrament of baptism. Similarly, Saint Ardalion converted while performing a parody of Christ's crucifixion. This parodied crucifixion became a real crucifixion for him, where he identified with Christ and became a Christian. This is how Saint Nicolas Cabasilas interpreted it. Thus, a parody intended to ridicule Christian rituals can transform into a moment of divine revelation, where blasphemous laughter becomes pious joy.
Finally, it is impossible to overlook the immediate cause of this wave of scandal and protest: the fact that the guests at the table were drag queens. This is the main reason why the scene was interpreted as mockery. We are told that Christ only surrounded himself with his disciples (including Judas) at the Last Supper, and even when he "ate with tax collectors and sinners" (Lk. 15:1-2), he supposedly gave them moral lectures, calling on them to repent.
Christ and Zacchaeus, Maître d'Anvers, 1485 - 1491
However, none of these alleged discourses are recorded in the Gospel canon. Christ certainly speaks of repentance (Lk. 15:10), but these words are usually found in the context of communal meals and conversations with grumbling Pharisees, aka the righteous of the old Church. When it comes to his interactions with sinners, his words are minimal: "You have had five husbands" (to the Samaritan woman), "Go and sin no more" (to the adulterous woman and to some he healed). Otherwise, we see his actions: looking at them, paying attention to them, inviting himself to Zacchaeus' home, asking Levi (Matthew) to follow him. The moralizing speeches are mainly directed at the Pharisees ("Woe to you..." Mat. 23:13-39), and even then, it seems Christ is disheartened by their lack of repentance. Yet, he doesn't hesitate to dine with them either (Lk. 7:36).
In our communities, it’s common to hear people rebelling against what they call “woke culture” and the “over-representation of sexual minorities.” They also criticize the "ideological aspect" of LGBT movements. While there may be some truth to these concerns, there are still many areas—social classes, institutions, and countries—where LGBT people are marginalized, scorned, or even harshly persecuted. It's been suggested that this likely doesn’t apply to the actors in the scene being debated. However, the purpose of actors in a performance is not to represent themselves but to represent something larger. These actors may be fully accepted by their own communities, with global recognition and an audience. Some argue they are even "spoiled" by society, though it’s worth noting that some have received death threats ahead of the show. In any case, the controversy isn’t about them as individuals: they represented others who are not accepted or embraced by society. Do we really have the right to say that Christ would not invite them to his supper?
Moreover, why are we so quick to assume these individuals are greater sinners than any of us? Even if they are accused of debauchery, is that a greater sin? Haven't we been taught that the greatest sin is pride? Why is it that matters related to sexuality are what cause so many Christians to rise up in protest?
These are important questions we need to ask ourselves.
The Last Supper, the institution of the Eucharist, is also an image of the feast in the Kingdom of God—the feast mentioned in the parables of the Gospel. In the parable of the wedding banquet, the king, disappointed by the refusal of his invited guests, extends the invitation to everyone on the streets. Only one person is rejected later (but only after entering the banquet hall!) because he does not respond to the question: "Friend, how did you get in here without a wedding garment?" He does not even say, as we chant during Holy Week, "Enlighten the garment of my soul and save me!" And yet, we dare to limit the guest list at the feast to those who, in our opinion, meet impeccable moral standards?
If the intention of the creators of this show was to provoke Christians by placing people with fluid sexual identities or those who challenge culturally accepted gender norms at the Lord's table, then it is perhaps a well-chosen provocation. It is a form of irony and subversion that should not anger us but make us reflect. Perhaps we should advance the theological discussion about gender and sexuality instead of clinging to moralizing indignation.
In conclusion, let us, as Orthodox Christians, rejoice in being parodied. This can help us grow in humility. It also reflects the image that others have of us, showing that we remain a cultural reference. People expect us, even unconsciously, to be better and to embody that reference. It reveals a deeper search for meaning, and such parody could even lead to repentance and transformation in those who mock us.
Alexandra de Moffarts teaches religion at Saint John the Theologian Institute in Brussels. She studied Orthodox theology at the Saint Sergius Institute in Paris and holds a PhD in linguistics from Düsseldorf University. Her studies in theology, linguistics, and literature have kindled her interest in the interface between theology and fiction, especially fantasy and science fiction.